Your Fascination

It’s 1985.
Gary and I
are having tea.

Count to four.
We look at each other.
We stop.
He looks behind me.
I look at the table,
wondering what the
time is because
when he was
two minutes late,
I felt betrayed.

He talks about planes.
I listen.
The clash of his
orange tan,
black hair and
white suit
is distracting.

Count to four.
His rule for eye contact;
over five seconds,
too intense,
less than three,
not invested.
My rule,
just keep nodding.
I haven’t looked at him
in two minutes.
I ask him about cars,
where he feels safest of all.

It’s been many years now.
We part ways
with much in common.

Margaret Gillies is a BA English student in University College Cork. Her poems are inspired by life experiences and pop culture.